


42 | bang chan

by adore_jisung



Series: and beyond | stray kids [6]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Afterlife, Crying, Dark, Death, Death Wish, Depressing, Depression, Exhaustion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Late at Night, Loneliness, Nonsense, Poetry, Producer Bang Chan, Religion, Sad, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Slice of Life, Songwriting, Suffering, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21650917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adore_jisung/pseuds/adore_jisung
Summary: in which chan just wants an answerorbasically chan writing his verse of 42
Relationships: 3racha - Relationship, Bang Chan & Everyone, Bang Chan/Everyone, Stray Kids Ensemble/Everyone
Series: and beyond | stray kids [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545982
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	42 | bang chan

**Author's Note:**

> started: 04th november 2019  
> ended: 11th november 2019  
> 1294 words
> 
> this story isn't supposed to romanticize or euphemize mental illnesses/suicide in any way and i tried to cover the topic respectfully.
> 
> all rights reserved to adore_jisung.
> 
> [tw] this story contains mentions of depressive thoughts and suicide. if you don't feel comfortable being confronted with these topics, read at your own risk.

_i've been thinking ‘bout my life_

a raspy chuckle that rather sounded like choking escaped his sore throat as his burning eyes were blankly staring at those six words his shaky hand had just written.

this simple sentence did not express reality in the slightest. everyone thinks about their lives, of course they do, anything else would be irresponsible, somehow stupid. 

but chan? thinking was not an appropriate term for describing his state during the past months. in fact, his mind was literally overflowing with thoughts about his existence, about his life, about his life's meaning, whether or not there even was a meaning. 

these thoughts were consuming his mind's entire capacity like greedy little monsters, they did not allow anything else come in contact with his heart, they did not allow a single distraction relieving him for a short moment. 

it was pure torture, maybe even a self-induced torture, chan somehow wasn't capable of stopping. had he already lost control? control about his own thoughts, the probably most personal instance of an independent human being? had he lost control about himself? 

he didn't even want to hear the answer. merely the idea of ending up being helpless, powerless and oppressed by his very own person scared him to such an extent, he felt like suffocating, as if the big, black shadow called fear was wrapping his whole being in its thick, impenetrable smoke, squeezing him together until he was no more but a shrunken picture of misery surrounded by endless darkness. 

a darkness its depths did not allow any physical nor mental exit. 

with one exception.

chan paused hesitatingly, but before realizing it, his hand had already scrabbled the secret question he had been eager to hide behind faked smiles and happy masks, the painfully true words revealing a thought he was only too familiar with.

_is it better if i die? suicide_

small words with a heavy meaning, small words that had been accompanying him for a good, way too long part of his life already. multiple times he had put them aside, had paid attention to other things, other people, other hopes. but no matter how deep he had buried them in hopes that he'd be able to let them go and completely forget them one day, they had never left him. 

their presence had attached to his body, had melted with his soul until the words were a fixed part of himself.

chan swallowed hard. 

was death really his one and only escape from the dark depths he was captured in? 

and what if the sweet gates promising redemption and an end of suffering were nothing but a facade hiding an even deeper darkness than the one he was trapped in right now? to die was an irreversible decision and he was very aware of that. once he'd enter those tempting doors there would be no turning back. 

he just couldn't believe it, he could not imagine having to make this one heavy decision, having to bear all its consequences all by himself. was there really no other way?

_before i fall asleep forever_

_i'm trying to find feeling within this nothingness_

there had to be a second answer, an alternative, at least one. his existence just couldn't be nothing but a meaningless emptiness, a waste of space and time. or could it? and if so, why him? why did other people not even have to consider the idea of being an unnecessary coincidence without any purpose but to survive?

the only logical conclusion he could draw was himself. it was his own fault, his and his uncountable flaws' fault. it was his lack of perfection. maybe, if he had been a better human, he wouldn't have to ask himself all these unanswerable questions, maybe he didn't have to doubt every breath he inhaled, every bite of food he took in, every word he spoke. 

but he wasn't good, not perfect, he was not enough. 

_why do we live? what’s the purpose?_

_is it 42? stop speaking nonsense_

"the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything is 42." chan did not even understand that sentence, but he loved it, loved the nonsense, the randomness. it was like a parallelism related to his own life, it just did not make sense. it shouldn't exist.

furthermore, for him, this seemingly ordinary number additionally contained a big importance, a message. the digit was finite, it wasn't eternal. life was finite. life was suffering. suffering was finite, finite due to the mortality of his life. 

life was not eternal, it was limited. and he could decide when that finish line would be finally crossed. it was all about the time.

_time flows like water_

_in the blink of an eye, i'm dead_

_i don't want that_

_i don't want to die with regrets_

the singularity of suicide - that was what had been making him hesitate for so long already, once he'd end everything, he couldn't come back, never. and not only this aspect was preventing him, next to the enormous fear of potentially choosing the wrong path, there was a heavy lump of guilt weighing down his heart. 

what would happen with his eight band members once he'd be gone, with his family? he could never forgive himself for disappointing them and the risk of ruining their lives for eternity was too high to be accepted. they could never forgive him for ruining them. 

but was others' pleasure really more important than his own wellbeing? probably not. 

as much as he hated himself, there was still a small spark of self-consciousness left in his shattered heart, a small spark encouraging him to be egoistic for one single time in his life marked with selflessness, to choose himself before others. to choose his own wellbeing before others'. and wellbeing, in his case, had a second, special definition: ending his suffering. ending himself.

_god gave us an option_

_whatever road we take_

chan had never openly talked about his religious beliefs, at least not with his fans. he himself didn't know what he actually believed either. he wouldn't call himself an atheist, no, not at all, the whole world, the diversity, the colors, everything was art. the night sky with uncountable stars looking down on him, the moon being his silent friend in long nights, it all was art and every art needed an artist, a creator. and if a creator had designed the whole universe, chan himself was a part of that creation as well, he was planned. 

however, he wasn't a puppet, a toy, no, he was granted power. power and freedom concerning his choices, his life and lastly his death. what else than granted freedom could be a reason for humans having the ability to kill themselves?

yes, chan was supposed to live. but living would not describe his state properly, he did not live, he was merely alive. and no one else than he himself carried the key in his hands, the key to the two doors splitting heaven and earth. the key to the two doors called life and death. and one day, he was convinced, he would determinedly choose the second one.

however, the entry through the gates of death didn't know the word time. hence, it didn't matter whether chan would enter it today, next month or in ten years. he knew that he would, he promised, and that was enough for him right now. but maybe he could remain selfless for a further, short period of time, until he'd finally fulfill his own wish that had never left his heart since it was born.

to die.

_i knew since i was born_

_don't push the brakes_

_look forward and live for yourself_.


End file.
